


When he wears wings

by Moonlessnite



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angels, Angst, Betrayal, Coda, Episode Related, Episode: s13e23 Let the Good Times Roll, Heavy Angst, M/M, Michael Possessing Dean Winchester, Possession, Sad Ending, Season/Series 13 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 15:01:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14718321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonlessnite/pseuds/Moonlessnite
Summary: Lucifer is dead but the cost comes at an extremely high price.Castiel doesn't realize how high until he meets Michael in a way he's never seen him.





	When he wears wings

**Author's Note:**

> I'm VERY angry after that last episode. 
> 
> This was inspired by a short cartoon like drawing I saw on a Destiel facebook page. If the artist gives me permission on Tumblr, I'll post the link. 
> 
> This is my muse acting out.

Castiel almost collapses to the floor as Dean speaks in a sure, no nonsense voice to the injured archangel in front of him. “Yes.”

 

His cry of “Dean, no!”, is lost in the scream of Michael's angelic voice as the archangel abandons his wounded vessel to enter his true Sword. The light of his Grace is blinding, even to the Seraph, who closes his eyes and turns away from the blue-white flare. 

 

_ Dean!,  _ his mind cries silently as he feels like his heart is being impaled. The screeching sound of Michael's triumph causes Castiel to cover his ears and wince in pain at its force. His own Grace cowers inside his vessel as he feels like the world is coming apart at the seams. For a moment, all is noise. Agony. Chaos and heartbreak. 

 

Then, as quickly as it began, it's over. 

 

Castiel cautiously peaks his eyes open as he lowers his hands from his ears. His heart is hammering as he turns back towards where Dean had stood to find, to his immense relief, the hunter is still where he was a moment before. Relief sags his shoulders at the sight even as panic whirls in his gut. 

 

The other man's dark brown head is ducked and face pointed towards the ground. Strong hands clenched into fists by his sides. His chest moving rapidly as he draws in and lets out heavy breaths through his nose. Eyes squeezed shut.

 

The angel eyes his hunter as hope and fear war inside his chest. Cautiously takes a quick glance around the room. The archangels previous vessel is gone. The main room in the bunker is empty, save the two of them. All is almost totally silent and still, a jarring contrast to the previous insanity. He directs his serious gaze back to Dean and stretches out his own Grace. Deep down within the body of the hunter, almost buried, he can sense Michael's devastating power. 

 

His Brother who's not his Brother. 

 

“Dean?” Castiel’s voice shocks even him as he speaks into the quiet atmosphere. He moves a cautious step forward, one hand extending towards the hunter. Not touching. Ready. He's just not sure for what. Can't believe this is really happening. 

 

_ Please Father,  _ he prays to his absent God. _ Let it still be Dean. My Dean.  _

 

The angel calls again. “Dean?” Another forward step. “Can you hear me?” Waits without breathing for a sign that the man he secretly loves is still with him. Still in control of his own body. His own mind and heart. 

 

Heartbeats go by in agonizing silence as Castiel stands perfectly still. Fearful. Hopeful. Lost and yet determined. A bundle of contradictory emotions building inside him, almost shaking his form. Says the hunter’s name once more, anxiety coloring the word. “Dean?”

 

“I'm here Cas,” comes the immediate reply to his latest entreaty. Dean's voice sounds normal, if a little strained. The movement of his chest slowing as his breaths come easier. Calmer. Hands unclenching, fingers falling open at his sides. As the angel watches nervously, in one smooth motion, Dean raises his head and opens his eyes. 

 

For just a moment, Castiel meets the hunters eyes. Sees their beautiful green color sparkle like sunlight on clear ocean waves. Feels a catch in his chest that Dean, his beloved, is still there. Still himself. Something that was wound tight inside him seems to ease the smallest bit.

 

Until, Castiel feels a burst of heavenly power. Behind the hunter, white light flares once before the area around him seems to brighten like pure, unfiltered moonlight. Dean's shoulders roll backwards and his spine straightens as two huge, night black wings begin to unfold from behind his body. 

 

The plumage fans wide, wingtips stretching from one corner of the room to the other. Power flickers and flares against the bulbs and light fixtures. Archangel Grace and electricity spark off each other like two fighting cats, hissing and spitting.

 

As Castiel watches in equal parts awe and fear, the hunter’s lips stretch into a smile showing a flash of teeth. The expression is exultant and powerful. Slightly predatory. Indescribably beautiful. Dean's eyes flare briefly with the same powerful light. 

 

The hunter flexes the powerful appendages at his back before ruffling the flight feathers. The angel gasps as the huge wings, easily twice his own, fan a few times before being tucked away. Bright light fading right after and returning the room to normal. 

 

Castiel waits as the man before him grins in that that lovely, familiar way while moving towards him. The expression that crinkles up his eyes, bringing out lines etched in both joy and pain. Making him so imperfectly, perfectly human that the angels heart fills with emotion. “Hey Cas.”

 

He blinks back the unexpected wetness that's gathered in his eyes. “Dean.” He has to say his name again. Make sure. “You're ok? It's really you?” Feels an urge so strong he can't stop himself. Castiel reaches out grasps the hunter by the biceps, a smile stretching on his own lips. 

 

Dean returns the grip, grabbing the angel near his elbows and nodding. Squeezes gently. “Yeah Cas. It's still me.” His gaze seems to go unfocused. Listening to things Castiel can't hear. Michael's voice maybe. 

 

Fear is still settled heavily in the angel’s gut when Dean steps back and lets go of him. He maintains his grip for a few more precious seconds on the hunter before dropping his arms. Something in Castiel cries out at the lack of contact but he shoves it back down.

 

“What….” The angel stops, his smile fading. Clears his throat. “What are you going to do?”

 

The eyes Castiel could get lost in focus on him one more time. For just an instant, the angel can sense Dean's soul. Bright and powerful. Almost blinding in its brilliance. Fired by his own determination and the power of the archangel lying in wait within him. 

 

“I'm going to kill the Devil, Cas. Then you, Sam, and I are going to finally take a nice, long vacation.” The green-eyed gaze looking back at the angel flares once. A brilliant, white-blue that causes a pang of fear inside Castiel’s chest. 

 

“I'll come with you.” Castiel says without hesitation. The urge to go to battle rises inside him like a siren's call. The burning need to save his family. Sam. Jack. To fight alongside the man he would follow into hell and beyond. To the end of the universe. To protect the human he loves more than life itself. 

 

The bright light fades from the hunter's eyes, even as he shakes his head. Expression turning both soft and sad at the same time. Castiel feels like the other man's gaze sees all the way through him. 

 

_ Maybe it does _ . 

 

The angel’s heartbeat accelerates as Dean reaches out with his right hand and cups the side of his face. Breath shuddering out in a sigh. Runs a calloused thumb along Castiel’s bottom lip with the lightest of touches as the hunter’s full lips quirk into a lopsided smile. “I'll see you soon Cas.”

 

With a flutter of wings that sends the angel's trench coat flapping around him, Dean is gone. 

Castiel immediately gasps at the loss of touch, the sound surprisingly loud as he stands in the now empty room. Head cocking to the side, he immediately tunes into angel radio, the now ever present static echoing in his head. 

 

He curses his own weakness. His lack of power to be able to follow and fight at his hunter’s side. Inability to help save those he loves gnashing violently within him.

 

The angel closes his eyes and reaches out as far as he can. Pushing his power almost to its limits. Trying to stretch it beyond as his vessel begins to vibrate with the desperation growing inside him. Faintly, he can feel the swell of Lucifer’s power. Power taken by almost draining his own son. He can barely sense Jack at all, just pain. Terror and loss. Sam is a mere blip, barely holding on in the swirling, red-streaked energy that is now the Devil’s all-consuming power. Castiel’s breath stops in his lungs as the feelings of fear and desperation whirl inside him while he stands helpless. 

 

Then…..a fiery swirl of righteous fury and power lands in the midst of the hellish energy leaking of Lucifer.  _ Dean,  _ his mind sighs. Hope grows in his chest as he reaches towards the bright light he knows so well that's intermixed with a power he doesn’t know at all. 

 

Castiel can sense the almost blinding Grace. Practically bathe in its determination and he longs to follow it. Feels the two powers, one bright and one dark, lash out towards each other as the opponents make their first strikes in a war that will decide the fate of them all. 

 

When, suddenly, he's cut off. It's like a barrier slams up around the room where Dean and Lucifer are ready to kill each other to triumph.

 

The angel cries out. A gut wrenching sound of frustration and growing terror. It's like he's been struck blind and nausea rolls through his gut. Hands clenched into fists as he begins to pace. Teeth grinding and squaring his strong jaw as the lights above him flicker in time with his agitated Grace. 

 

Minutes go by like hours as he paces.

 

Castiel counts the time by the beats of his heart throbbing through his body. The feel of it echoing in his fingertips. Angel radio is still a mess of static and he curses, low and violently. Realizes he's losing control when the end of a table groans under the grip of his hands. He fights to rein it back in. 

 

_ What can I do now? _

 

Nothing. He can't fly. Can't call for help. There’s no help to be had. He's stuck waiting by the sidelines while the only person he's ever been in love with fights a battle all alone. One he'll die in if he loses. 

 

They'll all die. The whole universe will burn. 

 

The angel glances around the bunker for something. Anything. All his conflicting thoughts and emotions coming to a head as he focuses, looking for any desperate solution. He remembers he’s in one of the greatest halls of occult knowledge in the world. 

 

_ Maybe, just maybe, I can find something _ …..

 

Just as he strides towards the bowls of the bunker, pushing down an inner voice telling him he won’t find anything in time, a fluttering of wings from behind him catches his immediate attention. 

 

Castiel hadn’t felt any presence. Begins to whirl. Time slows down, his angel blade falling into his hand as he raises it in front of him before he even finishes the full turn. Moving to address the potential threat that has appeared at his back. His own power flares out, lighting the room around him with his own inner Grace as his broken wings flare from his back. He knows, even as he’s moving, that if it’s Lucifer at his back then he’s about to die. That his family is dead. Dean will be dead. 

 

But he’ll go down fighting. Even if he can’t win. 

 

Any fear, pain, confusion, is drowned out in a flood of righteous rage that pushes his power through him until it’s screaming for blood. 

 

As he completes his turn, he’s stunned to see Dean standing in the bunker. The power he was gathering for a strike fizzles out, his wings sucking back into his form as he barely stops himself from falling as shock knocks him off balance. A distant clatter of his angel blade falling to the tile sounds in the room, but it’s all background noise. Nothing is clear for him except the face of his hunter. 

 

“Dean?!”, Castiel breathes out. Voice barely above a whisper as his eyes dance over the body standing a few feet from him. The hunter looks the same as when he'd left. His green eyes are bright and untainted by the light of any Grace. Expression serious. The same strong, deceptively well muscled form the angel longs to touch. Unharmed. Gloriously, miraculously alive. Every feature the same as the angel remembers. 

 

Yet, something makes Castiel hesitate. He studies the man in front of him and alarm whispers through his blood as he realizes the hunter is alone.

 

Dean's posture is slightly, but noticeably, different. His back straighter. Shoulders more squared. Even the tilt to his head is dissimilar. His brown hair is slicked down, the usual spikes in the front smoothed over. The same clothes he was wearing when he disappeared even appear freshly pressed and cleaned. No signs or smells of battle. 

 

“Are you alright?”, the angel asks quietly. 

 

Terror grows in his chest as Dean smiles. The expression is tight lipped, with a slight narrowing of his eyes. “I’m well. Better than I have been in a long, long time.” 

 

_ That voice _ . 

 

Still Dean’s, but there’s a coldness. A command in it that's not like the hunter. Chilling arrogance that sends a shiver down the angel's spine at the dangerous look emanating from the other man's gaze. The icy green eyes dance around the room as the hunter locks his hands behind his back and slowly moves towards the angel. 

 

“Dean… where's Sam?” Part of him wants to move forward but his legs won't cooperate. “Is Lucifer dead?” Even as he's speaking, he's reaching out with his Grace. Slow and cautious as an inner voice starts yammering frantically at him. 

 

Castiel starts to ask the hunter why he isn't answering but the words never make it past his lips. 

 

A powerful blow of Grace knocks him backwards and slams him into a nearby column. The angel immediately tries to move and finds he's stuck. Trapped. Held like an animal in a cage as the archangel who's wearing the hunter like a suit strolls up and stops inches away. 

 

“Michael,” the angel hisses. Impotent rage fires through him as his own power lashes out. Tries to rip and tear at the binds holding him in place. However, it's no use. Castiel is no match for his older Brother, even one from an alternate world. Especially not since he's garbed in his one, true vessel. 

 

The smile drops from Dean's features as Michael speaks through him and the angel curses his own stupidity. “Yes. It's me.” He cocks the head of his vessel to the side as his gaze sweeps Castiel’s helpless form. “Really, Castiel. You are so inferior to the angel I knew in my world.” The coldly empty gaze meets the angels again. “You know. My Brother, that you slew to protect these…..”, he raises his hands and drops Dean’s eyes to study them, “apes.” 

 

Castiel practically growls as the hunters body turns and strolls away, fingers opening and closing into fists. With a sudden snap from Michael, the clothes draping the archangel’s vessel change. The plain brown jacket, worn t-shirt, and light colored jeans are suddenly gone. In their place is a well-tailored, dark suit. The angel isn’t overly familiar with human fashion trends, but this seems a much older style than the normal suits worn today. Even older than his own which is almost a decade behind the times. 

 

The archangel turns slightly, till he’s in profile to the angel still being held immobile. “I’ve always hated having to take a vessel to interact with these creatures to cleanse them properly. So flawed. So primitive. All these….” flexes his fingers and smiles cruelly, “feelings. So many….” he turns back to Castiel but doesn’t meet his eyes, “feelings.” 

 

The smile widens, flashing teeth in an expression almost more of a snarl. “All the…..”, Michael pauses, using Dean’s mouth to laugh. A deep, horrible sound full of grisly, twisted humor. “Hate,” Michael finally snarls. Once again, he turns away, raking his hands through his vessel’s hair before suddenly holding his hands in front of him once again. “All the….” his words stop as his shoulders begin to tense slightly.

 

Castiel almost cries out as despair wells up and chokes him. He’s stopped fighting. Ceased pushing at the archangel Grace holding him helpless. His heart seems like it weighs as much as a black hole. Feels just as empty as he watches this Brother stalk around inside the man he loves.

 

When Michael speaks again through Dean, his voice is just above a whisper, “All the…….love.” The word has a lilt. Not quite a question. The dark head dips briefly before he turns suddenly towards Castiel, hands still held out. With a smooth, fluid stride he starts to move towards the angel again. Casually tucks his hands away in the pockets of the suit decorating the body of the hunter he’s holding captive. Castiel can’t catch a hint of Dean anywhere inside. 

 

_ But he must be.  _

 

“Well, well.” Michael comments, a more genial smile coming to the lips of his vessel. The beautiful green eyes that Castiel knows so well glitter with malicious enjoyment. “Dean Winchester,” a calculated pause before he continues mockingly, “in love with Castiel.” 

 

Time stops. 

 

The angel can feel his eyes go wide, tears swelling up on his lower lashes and obscuring his vision as he blinks rapidly. It takes a moment for his Brother’s words to register.

 

When they do, the angel feels like his chest has been ruptured. Heart falling from the gaping hole and shattering like fragile glass on the ground between the two of them. All hope crashes apart as decimation worse than any blade tears through him. He wants to fight. Scream. Beat that awful smile off the face he’s known for so many years. Except, he can’t. It’s not even just Michael’s power holding him immobile at this point.

 

It’s the dreams, aspirations, beliefs, hope, he’d held lying dead at the feet of the monster before him. 

 

As if to twist the knife, Dean’s body strolls up to him and stops within inches. The face of his only love moves forward. Green-eyed gaze dropping to the angel’s mouth. Breath from the beast in front of him ghosts of Castiel’s lips, causing him to gasp. The archangel’s next statement is barely audible, but the angel hears the cruel pleasure purring through the final three words. 

 

“I mean….loved.” 

 

And he’s suddenly gone, the room now empty except for the devastated angel. 

 

Castiel collapses like a marionette with its strings cut as Michael’s Grace finally releases him. His back slides down the column until he’s kneeling on the floor. Upper body falling forward as the angel barely manages to catch himself on shaking hands. Bows his head as his breath comes out in racking sobs and his entire body trembles so badly he can’t get to his feet. 

 

For a time, that's all he can do.

 

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Castiel struggles to stand. His head spins sickeningly and he lands heavily with his back against the column he had just been held against. 

 

_ Dean!  _

 

A voice inside him is screaming. Crying. Raging, but no hint of his own inner agony is on the angel’s face. His expression is dead. Lifeless. So deep into a land of hopelessness that he can’t even make himself move. 

 

Thoughts flash through his head in broken sentences, accompanied by the bitter taste of loss on his tongue.  _ Dean is gone. I'm not even sure if Sam and Jack made it or if Michael killed them for sport. If he's alive, that means Lucifer is dead.  _

 

Castiel expects to feel some sense of relief at that. After over a decade of fighting and the Devil is finally gone. However, there’s no room in the angel for any feelings of joy. Not with this latest, most devastating revelation still causing pain to course throughout his body. 

 

They’d gotten their family back from that horrible other-world. Brought Bobby and Charlie to their world. Not the same two that Castiel had known, but they were returned nonetheless. Saved countless others. Thought they’d sealed their enemies away forever. 

 

And now…..now Michael, a cruel, more insane Michael, was now free upon their land. Worse, he was in possession of his Sword. His true vessel. The man Castiel loved in a way he’d never knew he could love anyone or anything. With Lucifer and Gabriel now dead, there were no other archangel’s that could stand against this monster. 

 

The creature who is on the loose in an unsuspecting reality, ripe for the picking with victims for him to “purify.” Walking around in one of the best hunters to have ever drawn breath. Ready to destroy life and the whole universe around it. 

 

Darkness seems to seep into him as his Grace flickers and then fails in a wake of emotional turmoil. Castiel stands painfully. Staggers over to the steps and collapses down onto them. He lowers his head to his hands, tears dripping from between his fingers as he cries silently. Too hopeless to move. To think. Almost too pained to breath. 

 

“Dean…”, the name is torn from him in a cracked whisper. As he raises his tear-drenched face to the lifeless space around him, he’s sure of only one thing. 

 

The man he loves is gone, and is never coming back. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sure I'm not alone, but I HATED that finale. 
> 
> This show has always managed to surprise me but I saw this coming as soon as they announced Jensen was playing someone new. 
> 
> I'm still enraged but now I'm also sad about Gabriel being killed in such a bullshit manner. 
> 
> This is just me being pissed. 
> 
> My Beta is also out of town, so any grammar or spelling mistakes are all mine. 
> 
> Thank you for reading.


End file.
